


The Fundamental Things

by PenelopeWaits



Series: As Time Goes By [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Lily Evans Potter is still dead, M/M, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeWaits/pseuds/PenelopeWaits
Summary: Lily and Severus still manage to talk to each other once a year.  Why is Severus more anxious this year in particular?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape
Series: As Time Goes By [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985407
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	The Fundamental Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is barely more than a snippet. It is a prologue in the form of an epilogue for a multi-chapter Snarry story that I've been working on this year. I love these characters and cherish the thought of reconciliation between Severus and Lily. They all still belong to JKR, tho...

The Fundamental Things

October, 2020

Severus hurried along the familiar streets under the golden glow of a late October sun. His meeting tonight would be exceptionally intense. It had been years since the full moon fell on Samhain itself and the liminal veil would be particularly thin.

He always had some nervousness about these meetings, but he knew himself well enough to recognize the heavy worry in his gut. He wouldn’t lie to her, couldn’t lie to her, but he feared the truth he carried tonight would be the most unwelcome he had offered her in almost forty years.

As he neared the river, he could hear the rhythmic screech of the old swing, empty to any eyes but his. The sight of her, waiting, drove away his anxiety for the moment. She was as beautiful as ever and his love of her rose up in his chest as surely as the tide. They had never needed words and it had been a great relief to discover she could hear his thoughts effortlessly, never minding his lost voice.

“Hello, Lils,” he thought at her.

“Hello, Sev. Happy Halloween. You look well.”

It was, as all their most dangerous projects had been, her idea, originally. She had seen the concept on some telly entertainment one Saturday afternoon during their ninth summer. She was certain, her own gender notwithstanding, that they were meant to be blood brothers and wished to make it so. He, with his precocious knowledge, insisted they wait until Samhain for the act to be more genuine. So it was that on October 31st, at moonrise in the neglected park, they slit the palms of their left hands with his mother’s potion knife, joined them, and swore to be best friends forever, to death and beyond. Blood magic and Wizarding vows being what they are, it was so.

By the time they were 13, they had some inkling of what they had done, but pragmatism was one of the traits they shared. They shrugged and moved on. They jointly buried their friendship in a morass of disappointment, anger, jealousy and indignation just two years later. Severus had often wondered if his unrelenting bad luck stemmed from his abandonment of their vow. The year after her death, he had come crawling back to the park, hoping against hope. He had confessed everything. She had raged and denounced him, cried and disappeared. The following anniversary, he had come again, ready to grovel if only she would speak to him. When she came, she had only four words; “Tell me about Harry.” 

He had come every year he could, after that, bearing whatever news he could glean from Dumbledore, then from his own observations. After the second war, when he was supposed to be dead himself, he had memorized newspaper articles to share with her about Harry and his growing family, his untarnished fame. Gossip, it seemed, did not penetrate the veil. She hoarded every detail until his next visit.

Severus was always kind with her, polishing her son’s accomplishments and redacting his own reservations. He never mentioned the boy’s similarity to James Potter and, over the years of telling, Severus found he noticed that resemblance less himself.

Tonight, Lily began politely as she usually did anymore, inquiring after Severus himself and his thriving potions business. After a bit of chat, she said, “How is Harry? How are my grandchildren? Is his wife still something to do with quidditch?”

“Ginerva is still a sport’s reporter. I heard she has a book coming out this year. Something about the difficulties faced by female athletes, I think. It has been a bit of a difficult year for them all, though.”

“What do you mean? How difficult?”

“I did not want to say anything last year, because it was still in the stage of gossip, but it is official, now. Ginevra and Harry divorced a year ago.”

Her face drew into a frown as she asked, “What happened?”

He was as diplomatic as he had ever been with the Dark Lord. “The usual, as I understand it. They grew apart, once their parental duties were less demanding. She wanted to travel more. He was still consumed by his work. Common enough issues, especially in those who marry young.”

“But the children…. They must still have been hurt.”

“ The girl started Hogwarts that September. I think the children were cushioned, a bit, living at school and speaking with their friends.”

“Still,” she said with a mother’s worry, “Harry wanted a family so fiercely, you said so yourself, what with he and the Weasleys adopting each other and then him marrying into the family…. It must hurt to have those ties torn apart.”

“They were all together at the train station to see the children off last month. Lily,” he stumbled in his thoughts, “their daughter, Lily, says it’s actually been better recently. She says Harry and Ginerva never fought in her hearing, but they were irritable with everyone. She says it’s better now. ”

She peered at him closely. “You didn’t get that bit from The Prophet. You’ve spoken with her.”

He proceeded cautiously. “Yes, well… There was another issue. Harry was attacked in June. He was badly injured…”

“Attacked, who? Deatheaters!”

Glad for a chance to bend the conversation, he interrupted, “Not all crimes are committed by Deatheaters, Lils, especially now. This was a crime of greed and envy, with a little revenge sprinkled in. There were no politics involved.”

“But it was magical, a curse?”

“It was complex. It quite flummoxed Mungo’s idiots.”

“But not you, of course.”

“As it happens, I was consulted and was able to help. Of course, since I was supposed to be dead, it was a bit awkward, but once Harry was healed and the crime was sorted, we worked out my… revival.”

She studied his face and said, “You were always the cleverest of us, Sev. It drove… well, plenty of others were jealous. I owe you my thanks, again.”

“Your forgiveness is all I ever wanted, Lils. It is more than sufficient.” He silently hoped that forgiveness would hold tonight.

“So, you and Harry are talking to each other now?”

“Yes. We found we have a lot in common, he and I. We began spending a good bit of time together.”

“I’m glad, Sev. That’s good for him. He never really had a father figure, ‘tho I know Sirius tried.” She glanced up in time to see the wince on his face, to read the curl of his shoulders. “That’s not what you meant, is it?” She stared at him long and hard in the silence and he allowed it. She has known him half a century now.

“Severus Snape,” she growled, “Are you dating my son?”

“It’s gone rather further than dating, I’m afraid.”

“You bastard,” she cried, leaping up from the swing seat. “You cruel, callous, manipulative, malignant bastard! You’re shagging my son! I should kill you where you stand! You’re old enough to be his father, you twisted prick!”

He waited a moment, glad of the years that had given him some patience, calmed himself before replying, “Believe me, I am aware. In fairness, though, he is forty years old.”

Her face went slack and expressionless and Severus was sure she would have fainted if she still had a heart. She reached out, grabbing the chain of the swing and seated herself.

“My baby … my baby is forty years old?” Her hand went to her mouth and tears welled up in her beautiful eyes.

“Yes, officially, this summer,” he confirmed. It was nearly twice the age she had achieved herself.

Silence settled in again. He waited. She broke it, at last. “Somehow… I know you told me he got married, had children, worked his way up at the ministry, but it never sank in, you know? I always see him as that boy, walking into the Forbidden Forest alone, only ghosts for company. He was so young and so brave.”

“He still is, brave, I mean, and boyish, too, impulsive, heart on his sleeve, typical Gryffindor.”

She looked up, searching the face of her oldest friend. “You love him,” she stated.

“Yes.”

“And he loves you?”

“Against all likelihood, yes, I believe so.”

“Were you…. Did his marriage?” She trailed off.

“No, the marriage ended long before he was attacked. He’d been living back at Grimmauld Place for 6 months before I saw him this past summer.”

“Is he happy?” she asked.

Snape never had reason to be pleased about his injuries, his voicelessness, but he is now. Harry and he make use of his legilimency to communicate often, so now Snape can answer with certainty. “He is as happy as he as ever been. He is relaxed and at ease and feels safe.”

Lily’s face remains troubled. “You’re an Occulemens. You always could lie with a straight face.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “but I have never lied to you.”

“Severus,” she starts, but then, across the playground like an echo, they hear, “Severus”, called out into the night.

They look back together to the roadway. Beneath a streetlight, a slender man with glasses stares into the dark. “Sev,” he calls again, “Are you there?” He begins walking hesitantly across the weedy, uneven lawn.

“You always did have a weakness for dark-haired seekers,” she says, ruefully.

“Can he see you?” Asks the potion master.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I suspect it depends on us.”

“Do you want him to see you?”

“Don’t be daft,” she replies. “I’d give anything to see him again, to talk to him.”

Snape steps out into the moonlight. Silently, he casts a few golden sparks into the air.

Harry jogs toward him, then, reaching out to grab his lover’s arms as soon as he can close the distance.

“I was worried about you. I bloody hate Samhain and I got home and you’d left a note that you needed to see an old friend and you have some truly awful old friends and I was frightened for you and then the compass said you’d come here and I know you hate it here…”

Snape hugged the younger man close, looked into his eyes, entered his mind gently. “Harry, Harry, take a breath. It’s alright. I’m fine…”

“But?” Asked his perspicacious lover.

“I…. I need to ask you, again, do you trust me? Are you sure you trust me?”

“Yes, always. Why?”

“Because there is someone waiting for us who would very much like to see you, to speak with you, but it will be a bit unsettling, I think.”

“Alright. Who is it?”

“Come with me. She’s right over here…”

Fin


End file.
